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It might have been minutes, it might have been hours. Slowly, the world returned to her. First with the pounding of her own heart, hammering in her ears. Then the icy waters that flowed into her boots, soaking her trousers. The rustling of leaves that surrounded her, the faint scent of bark and wildflowers. And finally, the calm, resolute breaths of another.
Jaime.
She’d somehow forgotten about him, so entrenched in trying to save Killian that she’d blocked out the source of her devastation. All that fury assaulted her at once.
As she lifted her head toward Jaime, she trembled with that rage. She smoldered in it, welcoming it, bathing in it as if her ire could cleanse her pain.
Jaime stared back at her with pity and determination. “It had to be done.” He said it low yet firm, as firm as the trees that surrounded them.
Still holding Killian, Elyse gritted her teeth. Not yet, whispered something deep within her as more hatred stoked the hysteria within her.
“You’re angry,” he continued, shaking his head. His eyes were wide as if pleading for her to understand. “But you’ll understand. He never loved you. He shot you with an arrow. He sent mercenaries after you. He was going to turn you in.”
He spoke as if blind to Elyse’s fervor, the power stirring within her.
Not yet, came the whisper again, paralyzing her.
“You don’t belong with him, and you never did,” Jaime went on, his voice growing more bold. “I am the one who healed you when you arrived at my doorstep, bloodied from his arrow. I am the one who fed you and housed you and protected you. I am the one who deserves your love.”
A shiver wracked Elyse’s body as the meaning beneath his words dragged a cold finger up her spine. He said nothing of his love for her, only the devotion he felt he was owed. He didn’t care for her, he cared for the idea of her—the idea that she was his to claim.
Not yet. Her power coursed through her, a hungry dog biting at a steak that dangled before it. Not yet, it purred as the fire within her grew.
“You should be thanking me,” he uttered, a hint of condescension in his voice. “I broke the blood oath.”
Now.
Her magic seethed. It writhed within her, a fire that blocked out the cold waters of the creek, a power that made her feel weightless despite the heaviness of Killian’s body slumped against hers. It vibrated through her, until it was bursting from her skin.
Between clenched teeth, she growled, “You. Are. Nothing.”
Jaime stood in the creek, pride and anger and confusion furrowing his brows, and then he was gone.
Blood rained across the forest.
It speckled the trees, tainting their perfect, verdant leaves. It sprayed across the grass, droplets intermingling with the creek’s clear waters. It covered Elyse’s face, blinding her senses with a coppery tang.
That was all that was left of Jaime, aside from a few shreds of fabric that floated away, tangling in nearby branches. That, and the anger boiling in Elyse’s veins.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Even as she savored the taste of his blood on her lips, she knew that wiping Jaime off this earth would never erase her pain.
Her gaze slowly dropped to Killian’s face. He was splattered with blood—the blood of his murderer. With a trembling hand, she tried to wipe it away. A sob eviscerated her body.
Killian was gone.
Her Killian.
The only one who made her feel safe, and seen. He had found it in his heart to forgive her, and now he was gone.
His last words echoed through her mind, torturing her.
Bonded souls have a way of finding each other.
As if they would see each other again. One day, perhaps soon, her death would come. On that day, she would be reunited with him, and they could have the future she hadn’t allowed herself to dream of.
She ran a hand through Killian’s curls and closed her eyes. The world seemed so cold without him. She couldn’t wait for death to claim her before seeing him again.
Hope was determined to steal its way into her heart. It started small, an ember fanned by frantic thoughts as a plan began to develop. There was one person who could help her, if help was even attainable.
Still kneeling in the creek, she clutched Killian tighter, pulling his limp body to her chest. She closed her eyes and tried desperately to draw from the same power as before.
Please, she begged of her magic. Please.
She gripped Killian’s body with everything she had as she willed her magic to navigate away from this place, to flow through time and space and deliver her at her savior’s door.
As the cold waters of the creek disappeared, she repeated one name over and over again in her mind.
Mr. Grayson.
